


Who Tells Your Story?

by Beatles_and_Bellarke



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Post Eddie's death, Read at Your Own Risk, hella angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 15:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21138764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beatles_and_Bellarke/pseuds/Beatles_and_Bellarke
Summary: The other Losers feel it's only right to tell Myra about Eddie but Richie can't stand it. He misses him too much but doesn't know how to express this.





	Who Tells Your Story?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Evanaissante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evanaissante/gifts), [bittcrtragcdy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittcrtragcdy/gifts).

> I want to thank Em and Marie for letting me send them my ideas for this fic. I hope they enjoy it most of all. 
> 
> And if you loved this as much as I loved writing it, please drop me a line on my tumblr: beatlemaniacinthetardis!!!

“We need to tell her.” Bev’s voice cut through Richie’s grief fog. She’d been talking to the other three about Eddie’s wife but Richie only heard the tail end. He marched over to the huddle.

“I don’t want to.” His glare while stony, left little fight behind it.

“She was his wife.” The word _wife_ made Richie’s stomach turn unhelpfully. There was a lot of ways Eddie described Myra Kaspbrak. Wife was not a word he used. But Bev couldn’t hear his mind so she went on, “She deserves to know.”

“I understand where you’re going with this but I just don’t think its fair to Eddie.” Richie’s voice cracked at that. He couldn’t hold back the wave of grief threatening to overwhelm him.

“Richie.” Bill’s hand on his shoulder should have been a comforting weight but Richie’s every fiber wanted to shove his hand off. “Wouldn’t you like to know if someone you loved died?” Bill froze as he realized what he just said. Quickly backtracking, he replaced it with, “ I’m sorry Rich. But you know what I mean.”

Richie did. But he didn’t have the luxury of saying so because he _watched_ the one he loved die…in his fucking arms. How depressing was that? He turned his back on his friends.

“You guys go. Tell her what you need to. I don’t care. I can’t be part of it.”

“We need you, Rich. You’re the closest to Eddie. We shouldn’t do this without you.” Mike put on his leader voice. Richie’s ears must have deceived him. Why should he go? The last thing he wanted right now was to see his best friend’s now-ex wife and tell her he was gone forever. It was childish, Richie knew.

“Alright fine. But I’m going to trust my gut with this one and duck out as soon as I feel uncomfortable.” The other losers nodded, although they weren’t entirely certain why Richie would be the one in a state of discomfort.

After a quick Google search revealed a former limousine driver named Myra Kaspbrak living in LA, the Losers decided a group trip was in order. Bev made contact and said she was a friend of Eddie’s. After stating that she was now a widow, Bev explained that she needed to tell Myra everything in person and to give her his final effects. Myra agreed to meet at a café a mile from her home. The five Losers took the Red Eye and landed in LA early the next morning.

Richie took one look around the café and stated, “We shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, Richie.” Bev grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’ll be okay.” But Richie wished he could be as sure. It took everything in him just to get off the plane earlier that day and here he was in the middle of Los Angeles going to meet the love of his life’s widow. Nothing was ever going to be _okay_ again.

Eddie exaggerated a lot of things, but the one thing he didn’t was Myra’s size. Richie immediately felt awful for that being his first thought. In a split moment of recognition, he realized he was looking directly at Eddie’s mother, Sonia. Well, a younger (and slightly fitter) version anyway. She was blonde and nearly chinless. She was dressed to the nines in a slick black suit.

“Beverly Marsh. We spoke on the phone?” Bev held out her hand to Myra. She took one look at it, wiped it off with a nearby napkin to Bev’s bewilderment and then offered her own with a murmur of “Myra Kaspbrak.”

“Can we sit down?” Bev pressed when the awkwardness became unbearable. The woman nodded wordlessly. The five of them sat down and ordered drinks.

“Was it…quick?” Myra hadn’t made a sound until that point and it startled the Losers. They all looked at her, trying to put together context. It was Richie who found his voice first.

“Was _what_ quick?” He of course knew exactly but the emphasis in his voice was a challenge. Either to himself or to Myra he wasn’t entirely sure. A challenge not to break down, to stay strong for Eddie. His chest constricted at her next words.

“How his death happened. I need to know if he suffered. Was he alone?”

“He died a hero.” Was all Richie could manage. He felt Bev’s hand in his own, a pressure he focused on to gather himself. She squeezed tightly, speaking next.

“We knew Eddie in childhood. He was a fantastic friend and if it weren’t for him we all would be dead.” While that wasn’t entirely true, Richie smiled lightly. The embellishment was exactly what a widow would want to hear.

“Your husband is missed. If you need anything, please never hesitate to reach out.” Ben was all business, handing her a card with all their contact information on it.

“Eds was the best.” Bill locked eyes with Richie, tears welling up just hearing the term of endearment used so lovingly.

Myra sat stock-still the entire time each Loser said their piece. She looked across the table at Richie who matched her.

“You said he died a hero. My Eddie would never be heroic. He was fragile, frightened. He barely looked at me, thinking I’d leave him. I took care of him most days. He wouldn’t survive on his own.” She sat back, looking around in finality as if expecting the others to agree with her.

Richie lost it then. Her expression meant she didn’t know the true Eddie, _his _Eddie. Richie couldn’t bear to look at her one more second. He broke down, reduced to rage and sadness, mingling in every breath he took.

Standing up took an enormous amount of effort, but his heartbeat was excruciating, driving him forward. Before he could change his mind, Richie’s emotional state got the better of him.

“_Your Eddie was a shell of himself. _The Eddie we knew, the one we fought side by side with against a bastard clown, who took care of all of us. That’s who the world lost. That Eddie was brave, kind and a decent human being. Yes he was a nervous wreck some of the time. He stressed out about the stupidest things. But when it mattered, he put his fears aside. He stepped up to the plate. His death is a reminder for all of us to be better. We have to let our fears drive us forward.” Richie staggered back to his seat.

Everyone around the table sat in silence. Myra’s eyes were the size of golf balls. The other Losers stared for a long time at Richie, heaving in his seat. Realization struck Bev first. She knew exactly why Richie felt compelled to defend Eddie’s honor. She went to his side.

“We all loved Eddie and he was fearless to the bitter end. We know you’ll never see the same man we did and we understand that you have to remember him however you do. But our friend is gone and we can’t bear to think that this was what he’d come back to.” Her eyes found Ben’s as he stood.

“Eddie is in a happier place than here. We just hope you find that same happiness elsewhere.” Ben’s warm eyes were unusually steel-like as he looked at Myra. Bev couldn’t help but shiver slightly. She handed Myra Eddie’s luggage.

Bill and Mike helped Richie up and out of the restaurant. Once out of earshot, Bill angrily kicked the wall. Mike sat Richie on a bench nearby.

“Who the _fuck_ does she think she is talking about Eddie like that?”

“Everyone remembers what they want. We can’t control how she thought of him. You alright there, Rich?” Mike looked over to see Richie sobbing into his hands. Wordlessly, he went to sit next to the broken man, wrapping his arms around him in a long hug. The others followed suit.

If there was anything they’d learned in the last few days, they were family and no matter what happened to send them on their separate ways, this fact was laced so intricately into their group there was no room to doubt. Pennywise was defeated and while quite a few lives were lost in the process, life had to limp on. The Losers knew this better than anyone. So they regrouped that night and went back to their own paths the following morning.

Richie pulled out the spare inhaler he kept in his pocket in case Eddie misplaced his. The weight an ever-constant reminder of what could have, been but now it was a token of what was.


End file.
